


darkness in the dawn and daylight in the dusk

by dinosuns



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Bonding, Caring, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, I love them so much, Introspection, Mission Fic, Self-Sacrifice, Trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 13:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14214444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinosuns/pseuds/dinosuns
Summary: There’s no time to talk him down, Keith stands his ground and that will not change. The trials of Marmora proved explicitly just how far Keith is willing to go, how he refuses to quit. That doesn’t stop the name slipping from Kolivan’s lips harsher than planned to stifle the rising fear.“Keith, fallback-”--Sometimes, the darkness sheds light.





	darkness in the dawn and daylight in the dusk

**Author's Note:**

> for platonic vld week prompts 3 +4: Darkness + Individual. Warning for minor injury.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, really loved doing this one!!

♠ 

 **MISSION REPORT:** B63NX-04

 **DESTINATION:** Planet Lannexia [02-459]  
**AGENT(S):** Kolivan, Keith  
**REPORT LOGGED BY:** Kolivan

_Previous intelligence gathering provided evidence for Lannexia holding valuable information - logs B63NX-02 and B63NX-03 detail findings that substantiate the need for this mission. To better understand quintessence and the manner in which the Galra Empire wish to use it further investigation deemed necessary._

_Original mission objective for Lannexia did not deviate from standard mission prototype 1: deployed agents tasked with collecting intel. Area of exploration on Lannexia limited to Zone 3, more specifically reduced to the abandoned Galra station. Information brought back by agents for processing and cross-reference purposes._

♠

Approaching the abandoned base through the long grass, Kolivan crouches down beside Keith. The younger blade makes no move, focus trained ahead. Despite the mask, it’s clear Keith is assessing their destination meticulously. It’s something Kolivan has noticed from the outset upon observing Keith - the consistent attention to detail. Sharp eyes and even sharper instincts. Keith is thorough with his work, endeavours to have all the information at his disposal. When he doesn’t, he’s greatly frustrated and those stellar instincts can veer too close to impulse, dressing itself up in a destructive disguise that few can see through.

The ship’s readings seem to be correct from what is observable: there are no signs of intelligent life here. Lannexia is a planet long abandoned by the Galra and the people who lived here before that. Often, it’s called ‘the ghost planet’. It’s forgotten, tucked out on the edge of a galaxy that has no desire to embrace it. Abandoned not just by the civilians, but by the universe. Some say the nights here are impossibly cold, in some rotations they can last up to fifty vargas long. Weather and climate are erratic, notoriously so. The monsoon produces some of the greatest storms in this galaxy, the rain that pummels down rich in chemicals that singe skin if not immediately treated.

Even so, Lannexia is not as eerie as the tales told by those who claim to have set foot on its soil. On the contrary, the stories that have built a reputation of trepidation hardly match up to this place. If Kolivan was substantially younger, this revelation would have been gravely disappointing. He and Valas might have resorted to sulking about the rumours being disproven, before their mother resorted to telling them a different tale as the sunlight slipped into obscurity on the horizon of their home planet.

Now it’s simply a needless observation that will be omitted from the mission report. For nostalgia’s sake, which has no place in official documents.

“Remember our objective.” Kolivan scans the area, voice low.

Efficiency is key on this mission. And although there are no readings of other biorhythms in the vicinity, Kolivan remains cautious. Given the history of this planet, he’s rightful to do. Sometimes, it is not people one needs to be wary of. And in those times, one often would be grateful if it _were_ just people to be on the lookout for.

Once satisfied their perimeter is secured, Kolivan takes a few more steps forwards. In long strokes, he slices through the long grass to aid visibility. By comparison, Keith’s cuts are more sporadic, but they have an impressive amount of force behind each motion.

Without prompting, Keith summarises their mission brief the closer they inch closer to the abandoned station.

“We get in, find the intel we need, then get out.”

Glancing over to Kolivan, Keith waits. For what exactly, it’s unclear. Much about Keith proves to be an enigma, defining parts of him merely leads to that being contradicted by another intricate puzzle lacking all the pieces. The mask does nothing to aid Kolivan in figuring out this abrupt pause. Though behind the mask, there is undoubtedly a raised eyebrow. It’s a gesture Kolivan has grown used to seeing when the younger blade is expecting something - often an explanation. Perhaps he waits for approval, acknowledgement.

“Good. Let’s go.”

Keith snaps back into action as Kolivan realises it’s acceptance he seeks. Not belonging, not yet. Acceptance and belonging are not interchangeable - belonging is something Keith actively avoids to _accept._ Despite the offering of it, the whispers of it hovering close, Keith skates on the outskirts and wades in shallow waters. It’s a well-built mechanism of defence. Because if one does not belong in the first place, then one cannot ever be cast out. The chances of rejection lessen when relationships have been stretched across starways enough for tethers to wear. Keeping distance prevents those tethers strengthening and distorting into heavy chains. Kolivan once believed that to be truth, yet it did nothing to stop the shackles crafted by war burning his wrists.

Unlike his own youth however, Keith does not believe this wholeheartedly. His actions are not incongruous with this mindset, rather parcelled in paradoxes. Around the people that orbit him, Keith is swathed in indecision - the kind that reaches only this corner of his life. He sinks into the waters, only to clamber out frantically when his feet no longer touch the ground. He’ll tentatively open the window to pieces of his soul, then barricade it shut before it even had the opportunity to creep out.  

Keith wants to belong, he wants to be accepted. But he isn’t sure, he’s afraid of what that could lead to. Confident to bet on his life, weigh up the risks for a cause - but not willing to gamble on others. The chance of misreading kindness, discovering it was never there or watching it dissipate, is simply too costly.  

“All clear.” With one final cut, Keith reaches the edge of the long grass. Sheathing his blade, he strides to the main entrance. “Going in.”

♠

_Zone 3 of Lannexia formerly occupied by Empire forces; known backlog of Lannexia’s activity attached in file 055. For two pheobs, there has been no monitored activity and no detection of biorhythms. Therefore, Lannexia classified as a mid-level risk operation with two agents._

_Cause of the Galra exodus remains unspecified, although it is speculated the environment of Lannexia had become unfavourable to perform quintessence experiments up to the highest standard._ _Taking into account the risk rating of this mission, estimated duration for extraction had been approximated at three vargas._

_Due to unforeseen circumstances, elapsed time of the mission stands now at fifteen vargas._

♠

Stepping inside, they discover the windows are grimy, covered in moss. Long grass has slithered its way across the floors, vines twisting around stairwells and vegetation growing in places where dampness is present. In any way it can, the natural world outside has crept inside this building and nestled itself comfortably here. However big, however small. It’s testament to the way life seldom yields to other forces. Here, life will endeavour to find a way to thrive in whatever circumstances. And in many ways, that is not unlike Keith.

Overall, this base is unkempt and unclean. For Galra Commanders, that’s highly unusual. A base besmirched by poor standards of hygiene and appearance is considered an insult to the legacy of Zarkon. It’s common for Commanders to be relieved of positions or demoted if their stations are not pristine and something to be proud of having on display. Some parts of a Commander’s allegiance is far more performative than one may expect. Kolivan offers as much in a succinct explanation to an ever-curious Keith who questions if they are truly alone when they step inside. Although he seems unsatisfied with the answer, one glance around the hallway they walk through provides enough evidence for Kolivan’s claim. Thus, the subject is laid to rest.

At least, with Keith it is.  

For Kolivan, it lingers too close. An unwilling restlessness swathed in darkness, the kind of darkness no light can ever hope to dredge out from the corners of his composure - not when his bones are eclipsed by it. Bringing up his knowledge on Galra Commanders has proven to be a mistake. But fortunately, Keith is too preoccupied in their surroundings to notice any changes in his disposition. The relief that brings pushes harder against the shadows that engulf him. Kolivan moves forwards. He has to. Since that day, he vowed to do as much. Faltering would be failure of the most devastating breed.

“Reconvene at this point in twelve dobashes,” Kolivan instructs. Separating here is less of a risk given the lack of guards, but that’s a convenient truth to parade over burning scars that he cannot share with Keith.

There are three floors and a basement, and given the size of this floor from a quick glance it may take them two trips to find everything worth salvaging. Rummaging from the next hallway indicates Keith has already gotten to work. Kolivan systematically goes through the rooms along the corridor, and finds nothing. The majority of the rooms on this floor offer the same lack of results. Still, busying one’s mind with a task is better than stewing. Not to mention, the next floor has better promise as they begin looking around. The first room alone houses a number of documents on quintessence shipments, some of which are unfamiliar. Whilst it’s possible they could be outdated, Kolivan archives it for cross-reference.

“Kolivan,” Keith calls from down the hallway,  reverting with ease to not using the comms. In an abandoned base, some rooms hollow and unfilled, everywhere is extremely responsive to even the slightest of noise. “I - I think I found something.”

His voice is off-centre, enough to pull Kolivan from his own search. As he enters the small room, Kolivan is greeted by the hard firm line of Keith’s back. In any other circumstance, this would be a touching gesture. Revealing one’s back to another in Galra is often considered a mark of great trust and respect. But Kolivan is all too aware Keith has little knowledge of Galra customs, given his heritage being recently discovered.

Unfortunately, this sight is unnerving. It’s an opening no enemy would hesitate to take. Despite there being no possibility of an ambush here, it’s a reminder that Keith gives more of himself than he realises through his body language, perhaps says far more than he intends to without any words. Whilst Keith has demonstrated he can handle himself in combat, the battles that are forged from deception and slow snaking betrayal are ones Kolivan hopes Keith will never have to fight. They aim to skewer opponents by the spine. And those with the patience and experience to read character through action have the capacity - and the intention - to deal lethal blows.

It always starts with an exposed back.

“What is it?” Kolivan asks, moving to stand beside Keith. Their backs are exposed together this way.

Making no move from his place by the table, Keith gestures absently. His mask lifts, revealing a furrowed brow. Hair fans out and hanging just above his eyes that sweep over the document in his hands.

“It’s… some sort of report on quintessence and the results from tests they did here. Looks like in this report they didn’t succeed and- it says,” fist clenching, Keith clears his throat before reading the passage aloud. “Subject Y0XT32 did not gain consciousness after administering the static charge. Various different combinations were tried all with no results. Subject terminated.”

There’s something bleak in Keith’s gaze that doesn’t subside with slow hard blinks. It’s a lot to process, that lives were toyed with in laboratories and treated as disposable vehicles for scientific advancements. Somewhere out there, they still are. Keith sets the document down abruptly, as if burned by it. His posture goes rigid. Reaching for another document, Keith regathers himself.

As he talks through the contents, Kolivan sifts through what else is splayed across the table. One name scrawled on a file catches his eyes immediately, and it takes more restraint than it should not to reach out and subsequently draw attention towards it. That outcome could be a disaster. In this moment, Kolivan is grateful for the mask that shields his face as he stares. Beside him, Keith continues to point out the things he’s found. Fortunately, his focus works in Kolivan’s favour - he’s too swept up in the discoveries. By comparison, Kolivan’s focus is magnetised towards the file in the corner.

Before Keith can possibly get to it, Kolivan reaches for the file to scan through the contents. So very unaware of what sits in Kolivan’s hands, Keith glances up from his own pile. The things discussed in some of these documents evidently has disturbed him. His skin has grown pale, eyes narrowed and dark. Still, Keith stays on task. Because he understands the importance of the mission.

“I found something else.”

Nudging the documents aside, Keith clears a space to spread a small collection of photographs over the table. Each one shows a stretch of Lannexia’s sandy canyons, but what jumps out is the alcove consistently emphasised. Unlike the rest of the landscape, there’s something unnatural that is impossible to ignore. On wall of the alcove are markings, hieroglyphs of some description.

“These markings...” Keith begins, tracing a hand over the first photograph. There’s reverence in his voice that seems misplaced. Kolivan doesn’t question it for the time being. There’s enough unspoken stirring to whip up a storm too powerful to walk away from if the wires twist too far. “I’ve seen them before. More than that, I - I’ve _translated_ them before.”

“And what do these markings say?” Kolivan enquires carefully, picking up one of the photographs from the pile, file still in his grasp. This shot is at a better angle in this picture, revealing more of what’s been written across the stone.

Bowing his head, Keith frowns. There’s a frustrated sigh hissing out from between those pursed lips.

“I don’t know,” he parts with, and he sounds deeply unhappy about that admission. No, regretful. It’s a needless apology. Keith rakes a hand through his hair. That’s not a gesture Kolivan is accustomed to, and the anomaly reveals perhaps far more than Keith realises. He’s been building up to this, whatever he says next. And it’s the cause for building tension rolling off his shoulders.  

“But if we can get to the source, then maybe we’ll find something that could tell us more. I mean - it’s gotta be important if it’s here with all this stuff.”

Kolivan hums at that. Last time their mission took a detour, it led to nothing pleasant and one life lost. No mission is exactly the same, but the events cannot be forgotten. Caution cannot be undervalued. Bringing up past missions, however, will achieve nothing. So Kolivan doesn’t. Instead, he sets down the photograph in his hand.

“Collect these for archiving.”

“Archiving….” Keith goes still. He takes a moment to process the words, then suddenly snaps his gaze up to Kolivan. Something insistent lingers there, a desperation to be heard and trusted. “No! Those marking are the same as the ones on planet earth. And they ended up being right where the blue lion was. It can’t be coincidence, it-  we have to get a better look.”

Eyes trailing over the photograph, Kolivan laments the reality where a mission has no unexpected tangents.  It’s a convincing case, and Keith speaks the truth. But there are still issues with his plan - or rather, the lack of one.

“Lannexia has five zones,” hands pressed behind his back, Kolivan lifts his head. “How do you intend to find the source with our time constraints?”

“That’s easy.”

Keith cocks his head towards the window. He holds the second photograph from the pile against the glass, tracing over the canyon’s horizon with a finger. Stepping forward to inspect, Kolivan sees the pattern - the photograph is a match for their horizon. Past the plain of long grass, lies the canyon. Glancing over his shoulder, Keith waits for the verdict. There’s a twitch of his lips, born from satisfaction at his discovery. Kolivan knows even if he declines, Keith will insist going to investigate alone. He’s absolutely set on this. Nothing in the universe is going to stop him from pursuing this.

“Finish gathering what data we find here. Once that is done, we’ll make our way to the location.”

♠

 _Room 034B Level 2 of Lannexia’s base contained many things of interest. Of all things found, a report log from Commander_ _Ranveig detailing his work with manipulating quintessence. Amongst that, were some photographs which revealed ancient markings. Given the latest status of Mission Report (MR-23GN) on Ranveig’s work from undercover operative Krolia, and the markings bearing semblance to those discovered on planet Earth on a previous mission (MR-ERNV), further investigation of these markings in person was required._

_Location of said markings were registered on the outskirts Zone 3; a small alcove around the many caves of Lannexia’s Canyon._

♠

Ship parked at the edge of the long grass, the pair of them pack up the intel and set off for the second objective of this mission. It’s a surprisingly steep climb and the narrow paths are spindly. Keith isn’t fazed, charging forwards at a fierce and pressing pace. At times, he’s almost on the verge of breaking into a sprint. Kolivan manages to match his pace without too much trouble. After all, Keith is substantially smaller, and so are his strides.

The further they get into the canyon, the more Keith’s behaviour grows notably restless. There’s a prickly cutting gleam in his eyes tinged with something unexpectedly poignant. It creates a turbulence he cannot escape. Attention is divided, distracted. And Kolivan has come to learn that when Keith breaks his patterns, even in a subtle way, it is significant. Despite being the one insistent on coming here, for reasons Kolivan cannot grasp, this is having some sort of negative effect on Keith. Pulling out one of the hydration pouches tucked into his belt, Kolivan holds it out to the young blade and former paladin of Voltron.

Fingers grazing the pouch, Keith tentatively accepts. But he doesn’t open it, evidently keen to save it for later. Instead, the hydration pouch simple goes from one person’s belt to another’s. A pointless act. That is what leads Kolivan to try a different angle. Questions would be too much, too direct. Keith needs steering gently here if he is to speak his mind.

“You seem distracted.”

Keith stops in his tracks suddenly. The words catch his attention, which is a start. It’s only once their eyes meet and Kolivan can see the hesitance there he realises this has been gravely misinterpreted. _Distracted_. Keith thinks this the precipice of a lecture, or a scolding.

“I’m sorry. Just-...” Much like Kolivan, Keith is a private person. So it is a surprise when Kolivan’s approach works and the young blade provides the missing context. “Like I said, there were markings like this back on earth. Guess I can’t help think back to the arrival.”

No more needs to be said. There is only one name that resonates between each word, one person the focus gravitates towards: Shiro.

“That is understandable,” Kolivan concedes in the unfolding hush.

The conversation is stifled from then on, with no urgency to try for something more fluid between them. A few dobashes more of walking, and the alcove finally comes into sight. Quickening is pace, Keith tucks the photograph away. A raspy and relieved laugh tears itself from his lips, a welcomed change. Pressing a hand against the stone, Keith’s eyes widen.

“Woah,” he breathes in palpable awe. The white markings are striking against the sandy orange colour of the canyon. The photographs do it no justice. Up close, it is quite overpowering. “I wonder how old they are.”

Pulling out a datapad, Kolivan scans the alcove. A few bleeps later, the answer is at their disposal.

“Approximately fifteen thousand pheobes.”

Tucking the datapad away, Kolivan steps forwards to take a closer look. Between the images are symbols of an ancient language. Depicted are people, and a large gate opening. From the gate pour out creatures that seem to be unidentifiable. Compared to the lion carved in on the other side, there are no clues as to what they are. Now they have everything they came for, they ought to start making their way back to the ship. If the nights here are as long and cold as the stories say, then it’s time to go.

“I have sent the data and a photograph to our ship. Before we return, I’d like to take a small sample. Keep watch.”

“For what, exactly?” Keith asks in bemusement. “You said it yourself, there’s nothing out here besides us.”

He’s right. They have no company, and that response confirms Kolivan’s suspicions. Confidence built on complacency has no place on any mission, no matter how derelict the area. Kolivan wants to ensure Keith understands that believing in full security can be a mistake. Take nobody’s word at face value, unless it can be verified. Kolivan says as much - delicately. That appeases Keith enough to take his leave from the alcove and fulfil the task.

Much like the rest of the mission, collecting the sample is not a strenuous task. Until out of nowhere, the earth groans. A deep rumbling sound echoes above them, accompanied by small tremors. Considering how clear the sky is, it’s not a storm. But that is hardly reassuring.

Blade drawn, Keith’s eyes search frantically for an explanation. “What was that?”

Pocketing the sample, Kolivan leaps to his feet.

“Keith, we need to leave. Get back to the-“

♠

_All documents successfully archived for research. Alongside this, clearer copies of the markings were recorded with a sample. Estimated time elapsed at this stage reached two and a half vargas. The journey back to the ship would have rounded the mission up to three vargas. As aforementioned, this extended to fifteen._

_Cause and change in circumstances was outside of the agents’ control._

♠

The cave alcove is small, wide but lacking in depth. Roughly ten paces back, it’s enough to offer shelter for the markings and a person requiring rest. But in this situation, more depth would be desirable. The rocks keeping the alcove from collapsing quiver. It means nothing good - this is nature’s warning for what is coming. Another foreboding rumble muffles the rest of Kolivan’s request.

Rockslide.

That revelation is not what unsettles Kolivan, however. It’s Keith. More specifically, the way he’s standing. It’s the very same stance he held seconds before diving forwards into an imminent explosion where hope of saving a life was already gone in the worst of ways. Kolivan knows where this going before Keith even commits to it.

He’s going to jump headfirst into this danger, _for him._ Just as he did for Regris. There’s no time to talk him down, Keith stands his ground and that will not change. The trials of Marmora proved explicitly just how far Keith is willing to go, how he refuses to quit. Loyal to his own agency, resolved to fulfil it no matter what. That doesn’t stop the name slipping from Kolivan’s lips harsher than planned to stifle the rising fear.

“ _Keith,_ fallback _-”_

The first rock crashes down with and it snaps Keith into action. There’s no hesitation, no regard for his own wellbeing in this situation. Despite the conviction in this choice, it’s a foolish one Kolivan cannot condone. Much like Ulaz, Keith is quick to dive in to help others and set aside the value of his own life. He is not infallible, not immune to death, and the fact Keith seems to be acutely aware of that yet still persists is alarming.

Keith’s body twists as he lunges forwards, narrowly missing being pummelled by one of the rocks. It’s too close. This is too much. Kolivan moves quicker, because he knows better. Experience is an old friend here, one he can deploy to save Keith. Hopefully, save them both. With a sharp and efficient spin, he catches Keith by the shoulders and propels him as far away as his strength allows. No more.

It happens fast, after that point.

The rocks begin falling at a rate no person could possibly hope to manoeuvre through. Faster. More velocity. Pressing against the back of the alcove, dust from the rockslide inhibiting his vision, Kolivan can just about make out Keith hitting the ground on the other side. He’s far enough to be out of harm’s way. It’s momentary relief, despite the circumstances. But that barely deters Keith from intervening against forces he cannot hope to possibly fight.

“Kolivan!”

The war against the Galra Empire is perilous and every counterattack made by Voltron and the coalition is a risk. But they’re dealing with other beings, not the cosmic power of nature that does as it pleases and is unswayed by the agendas of civilisations.

Keith’s eyes widen in realisation and sheer horror. Even from this distance, the expression is jarring. One of the rocks falls too close, and as Kolivan moves to shield himself it slams into his leg. Hard. The force almost knocks him over, mask glitching as the dust seeps in. Throbbing pain surrounds him, has his vision blurring. But falling is not something he can afford to do at any cost or in any sense of the word. Not yet.

Scrambling for balance against the stone behind him, Kolivan winces. There’s a resounding audible crack as his foot lands at an angle which should not be possible. His vision flickers in and out of focus. And the sound of the rocks crashing down drowns out the word on Keith’s lips. A few hard blinks, Kolivan can see it’s _his name._ The young blade - so very young and too accepting of his own demise - hauls himself to his feet, teeth gritted and every inch of him emanating a fierce resilience as he runs.

That’s the last thing Kolivan sees, before his world goes dark.

♠

_Natural hazard occurrence: rockslide. Low-level tectonic activity disturbed the canyon. This is what is believed started the rockslide which blocked off the alcove._

_One agent became compromised, sustaining minor injuries._

♠

In the aftermath, everything is felt more intensely than it should be. Kolivan finds he’s unable to keep himself upright on one foot, slumping against the stone. He falls with a thud. The ground is no longer shaking, but strong tremors burst in his chest. His leg feels as if it has pulse of its own, gnawing at bone with every rippling sensation his heartbring brings. And further down, agonising heat consumes his foot. Putting pressure on it to walk would be a mistake.

Not that there is anywhere to walk.

He’s trapped.

The rocks have blocked out the sunlight. Save for the dull glow of his armour, it’s pitch black. Other senses are heightened to compensate, for better or worse. There’s a shrill ringing plaguing his ears that won’t cease, a pungent smell of mud and dirt overpowering his senses. The dust from the rockslide seeps into his aching lungs, unsatisfying and uncomfortable. Memory of Keith darting forwards has Kolivan trying in vain to stand once more. Unpleasant dread lurches through him, shoving him back down to the ground. Behind his eyelids, the images explode violently. Keith getting back up, brave and brazen. Keith running towards the rocks, ready to take a leap in good faith but not in good judgement.

“Kolivan!”

Through the pile of rocks separating them, Keith’s voice is faint but the edge of panic to it does not go unmissed. Following the shout comes a grunt. Then the sounds of exertion to no avail. Kolivan doesn’t need to see Keith to know exactly what is happening. Keith’s movements are urgent, too frantic. Not that his efforts would make any difference to this situation. It is impossible for one person to miraculously move a mountain alone so to speak.

But if anyone would try until their dying breath, then Kolivan knows all too well that person is Keith. It’s something that perturbs him more than he is able to articulate. Keith is a skilled fighter, a remarkable person with all the attributes of a honourable unsung knight - that is without question. Yet those strong foundations are shaken by something detrimental, an innate desire to see through a task to the end - no matter what end.

It doesn’t undermine his capabilities or lessen his achievements, but it compromises his chances of survival. For someone who Kolivan has seen consistently tear the hand of death off his own shoulder, someone who refuses to bow, it’s an unpleasant juxtaposition.

“Kolivan! Can you hear me?” The rasp in Keith’s voice borders hoarse as he continues to shove. The movement shakes every syllable, splitting composure further apart. Kolivan tries his own voice, spluttering against the dust.

“Argh! Come on!” The bite in Keith's voice is not born from anger, it’s the product of raw untamed fear. Kolivan can only imagine Keith is moments from slamming a fist against the rocks desperately. “ _Answer me!”_

The desire to dampen the horrible strain lying there is enough to push through the sore and sorry state of his throat. With a few coughs, Kolivan leans his head against the back of the alcove. For Keith to hear him, he’s going to have to raise his voice a fraction. The comms on his suit are now down, as are the dull embers of light coming from his chest pads.

“Keith,” reaching down to put pressure on his leg, Kolivan winces. He certainly won’t be walking anytime soon. But having no read on Keith’s condition is concerning. Even with a shoulder sliced open and continuously beaten down, Keith persisted and coaxed death ever closer in his trial. Hearing him talk and fight confirms nothing. “Are you hurt?”

“Fine.”

There’s a sharp hiss drawn out from the young blade, not from pain. Just aggravation. Honestly, Kolivan is unsure if that’s any better at this stage. Physically, Keith may be unharmed. But it’s clear he is distressed, shaken by the events more than he’s willing to let on. It’s not surprising. No matter how many blades fall, no matter how many times Kolivan himself has witnessed their deaths first-hand, it is never something he will be acclimatised to. Nor would he ever want to be. Death is sobering, the gutting sensation that twists through the ribs may become familiar but it should never become comfortable.

“I could ask you the same question.”

Sitting up a little straighter, Kolivan frowns at the calculating tone. Fingers graze over his leg and find a tear in his suit but no blood is drawn. The injuries are not life-threatening. But unless he gets out of here soon dehydration and other factors are bound to implicate his condition. Given Keith’s levels of distress are high, there is no need to further impact upon that or contribute needlessly.

Kolivan is not inclined to outwardly lie. Evasion, however, is a tactic he will resort to when necessary.

“Besides being trapped, there is no cause for concern.”

Without any source of light, it’s difficult to get a better read on things. Time also is a struggle to grasp and keep track of. So when Keith grows silent, Kolivan has very little indication of just how long for. Darkness submerges him completely. To be left in the dark figuratively also merely amplifies this.

“Keith,” Kolivan calls out, forcing the words to push above the tension in his chest. “Update your status.”

The response almost goes missed. It’s quiet. The laughter is bitter, plucked from a place inside of Keith that rarely is exposed.

“I saw what happened, Kolivan,” he admits. The words are abrasive and abrupt. “I saw you got hit. So stop treating me like some kid and tell me truth.” Pause. “Are you hurt?”

Keith leaves no stone unturned when it counts. He chases truth relentlessly, hunts it down and refuses to let go of the trail. Even sat here in the dark, Kolivan has nowhere to hide. The darkness is not an ally or an advantage. That’s something forever impressive about Keith, he is adaptable and so are the methods he deploys to give weight to his actions. Kolivan can evade as much as he want, but Keith is not only adaptable he is persistent. Paired with his grit determination, he is an inescapable storm that will tear down any obstacle to protect and preserve what's right.

“Kolivan?” Keith probes, impatient with waiting. “Update your status.”

The audacity of it has Kolivan’s lips twitching in surprise. Fearless and fiery.

“I was hit. But it’s nothing serious.”

There’s a gasp. “Can you walk?”

Kolivan grimaces, there’s not much point in pretending at this stage. “No.”

That seems to be the catalyst.

“So you’re trapped, and you can’t walk.” Keith clicks his tongue in mild annoyance. He deals in truths, and expects the same from people he speaks with. Kolivan's evasion, even if for his own sake, is clearly not appreciated. "I'd say that's pretty serious." 

Fumbling through his pockets, Kolivan’s fingers trace over the sample. It’s still in tact. The rest of the data is secured at the ship. Logically, there is only one course of action to take.

“Keith, you should get back to the ship.”

The ferocity of the next words is unexpected.

“No. I’m not leaving you.”

“Keith-“ Kolivan tries once more, only to be cut off by a biting question.

“Why did you do that?”

This isn’t something Keith is ready to accept, or understand. And there’s no way for Kolivan to breach this subject without it sounding like an unwarranted scolding. Personal reprimands beyond the context of the mission will be out of place. But that doesn’t change the fact that if he hadn’t stepped in, Keith could have died. That is serious.

“You gave me no choice,” Kolivan settles for. “Your intervening almost jeopardised what we had achieved today.”

More, it jeopardised Keith’s chances of survival. The situation could have easily been reversed or worse and that realisation is overwhelming. It hits harder than the spasming in his foot or the pain rocketing in hot sharp bursts through his leg.

“Look,” Keith begins slowly. Already, Kolivan hears it. Self-depreciation in a way that is horribly sincere, as if it’s nothing but the objective truth. “I know I’m not the best agent, and I -... I know you keep giving me chances, probably more than I deserve. But I made my choice back there. I won’t take it back.”

In hindsight, jeopardy is evidently the wrong word to use, and it’s too late to prevent the resulting reaction it ensues. Kolivan isn’t sure why this particular word is so destructive to Keith. But it is. And it’s dizzying to hear how it chips away at his foundations, tilting things off-balance.

“Keith-“

“You can’t tell me that going back for you was wrong.” The words are ground out, as if it’s physically painful to give them weight. “Not when you did the same for me.”

Regris - another acknowledgement which goes unspoken. Kolivan hums, but there is little chance Keith hears it from the other side. Pain has deviated from being excruciating, to simply draining his energy. Kolivan can tolerate it, but he’s unsure if he can tolerate more of the prominent anguish laced into every word Keith speaks.

Perhaps they’re both wounded, in different ways.

“Hey,” Keith prompts, unsettled by the lapse in conversation. “You’re hurt. Talk to me.”

“I regret to inform you that my conversation skills are out of practice.” Being rendered static and the exhaustion pries the words out from his chest. It’s a half-truth, dull amusement serving as the shield. Whilst Kolivan enjoys the right conversation, war is hardly the backdrop for delving into personal affairs and elaborating on interests.

With a huff, Keith snorts. He must’ve caught the joke above anything else. Kolivan has to crane his head forwards to catch the soft words.

“Yeah, well. Me too.“ There’s a sigh. Hand smoothing over the stones between them, Kolivan waits patiently. This feels important, potentially the most important thing Keith will ever tell him.

“Back on earth, I-...it was just me.”

The gravity of that statement is unspeakably powerful. But Kolivan makes no effort to herd the sensation off. If Keith has lived his entire life in solitude, yearning for some kind of explanation that never came, then Kolivan can endure a few moments of gut-wrenching guilt. Because whilst he is not the blade that left Keith’s side, he assigned Krolia her next mission upon her request. Intentional or not, Kolivan had some part to play in these affairs.

“Shiro changed that. But after Kerberos, it-“

The words abruptly cut off. Pursing his lips, Kolivan says nothing. There is mourning here, the kind that runs too raw through trembling hands and tired eyes. Kolivan pretends he doesn’t hear the strangled sob climbing up Keith’s throat. It’s barely suppressed. As if the silence is a mighty betrayal, Keith swiftly regathers his words.

“Didn’t stop me talking though. It didn’t matter nobody could hear me - it wasn’t about that. I’ve always liked the quiet, but out there in the desert… it wasn’t quiet. It was just loud.” His voice softens, close to despairing, as if that hasn’t changed. “All the time.”  

“And now?” Kolivan ventures, mostly to assure Keith he is still conscious. _It will never be just you again._

“A little better.”

The response is not a consolation, not when there is so much knowledge Keith does not yet possess. Kolivan may be surrounded by darkness currently, but Keith is haunted by the vast expanse of space it fills. Space where answers should be, answers Kolivan has. It’s not the time or place for these truths, and some aren’t his to give.

“Anyway. We’ll get you out real soon,” Keith sounds confident of that, a stark contrast to the vulnerability exposed moments ago. He propels them into new territory. “I patched Akkim into our signal. He and Sorang are on their way, so hold tight.”

“Might I remind you that requesting backup on intelligence missions is a breach of protocol.”

“Save the lecture for later,” Keith interjects, far lighter than anticipated. “For now, a thank you would be nice.”

It’s a joke. Poorly timed but well executed which makes it all the more appreciated. Kolivan splutters on a mixture of dust and amusement. Beneath that, something unspeakably warm tugs his lips into a smile.

♠

  _Back-up required. Agent responsible for breaking protocol refused to leave other operative’s side until aid arrived to set them free. Trapped agent suffered mild dehydration and received 140mg of Tolansinate for pain. Whilst unable to walk without assistance for two movements, condition remains stable._

_Had it not been for intervention and breach of protocol, condition would have severely deteriorated. In these circumstances, as there was no risk to security of the intel gathered or primary objective, breach pardoned on grounds of acting to preserve another life and valuing the individual alongside the mission._

♠

“Thank you, Keith.”


End file.
